Shown the Ropes
by C.F.Broome
Summary: The usual steadfast will of our heroine is rapidly being eroded by an unslakable lust that threatens to drive her to insanity. What will happen when Mr Rochester restrains Jane in his bedchamber, seemingly with no way to escape his clutches? Will she maintain a stiff upper lip and preserve her pride or will she relent to her forbidden desire? Rated M


Though Thornfield Hall had only been my home for several months, I felt as though the days surpassed between my last morning at Lowood and the present spanned years or, rather, decades. I was aptly aware that the state in which I found myself under the employ of Mr Rochester was more than preferable to the veritable hell of the aforementioned institution, yet I found my life devoid of any greater purpose. The guilt from my own lack of gratitude over my greatly improved situation only drove me further into the depths of despondency. However, my self-inflicted repentance would only become more pronounced at the hands of my master, whether he knew it or not.

Of late, the link between my mind and body seemed to be weakening, dissipating into nothingness like dew taken up by the sun. I had always considered myself to be of resolute character and while I cannot deny that my often untamed emotions have seen me punished on many occasions throughout my life, I should have resented the claim that my principles did not accompany them.

My master held some sort of power over me that seemed to completely alter my state of mind. Instead of prayer, his green eyes were the last thing on my mind before I slept. I felt as though his intense gaze were boring into me as I lay there, restless and unable to remove my thoughts from the well-formed figure that his clothes concealed from my wandering eyes.

The bright light of day failed to have the purifying effect the scriptures promise, my mind was still clouded with a deep crimson haze which affected every part of my life. Simply being within his proximity, even if it was clear across the room, sent a secret thrill up my spine and caused my body temperature to elevate as though I had a fever. In some ways, reader, that was exactly the ailment which affected me. My entire life revolved around my master. Without even questioning myself, I found myself finding ways to be near him, even a glimpse of his imposing figure from across the stairs sent my heart into a pounding rhythm which did not still for several minutes after he left. Whenever he spoke, my breath caught in my throat and my mind stumbled over the barrage of things I wanted to say but didn't have the nerve to. What resulted was an often monosyllabic response which failed to convey even a small percentage of the passion and desire burning through my body.

The dark of the night only magnified the already excruciating torment Mr Rochester was causing me to go through. The still blackness of my room only heightened my awareness of the body that was betraying me more with every illicit thought that entered my mind and some nights, I feared the very sheets would ignite due to the fervent, burning passion coursing through my veins. Many nights were plagued with frequent wakings brought on by dreams that caused me to repent my lust the next day and made me unable to meet my master's eye without feeling a blush creeping into both my cheeks and my core. I awoke feeling no more rested than before I fell asleep, the linen damp and plastered to my burning skin, trapping me in a web of my own forbidden desire.

Some nights the ache would become unbearable, even moving into the realm of pain. It was then that I relented, giving in to my base desires and quite literally taking matters into my own hands. Images of my master flashed before my eyes without me consciously thinking, it was as if he had invited himself into my psyche and was making a home there. My desperate pants seemed all the louder in the quiet chamber, my whimpers echoing off the walls before I was forced to bury my head in the pillow; both out of fear of getting caught and my immense shame. My body could do nothing but race towards its thrilling denouement, my mind utterly disconnected until the moment of release. The feeling that followed made me wish for death. A feeling of emptiness and indignity that lingered longer than the mawkishly sweet scent of mingled sweat and musk hanging in the air, suffocating and unbearable - a reminder of my sin.

Alas, to my chagrin, these occasional night time activities of mine did nothing to quell the constant ache I felt within me. From an observer, I appeared as a dedicated governess, only concerned for the education and wellbeing of her ward. Under the surface, however, I was a walking repository of lust, my nerves constantly on edge and my mind clouded with sin. Mr Rochester seemed to be as unconcerned with me as ever, only acknowledging my presence with a stiff nod or a simple glance. I longed for the rare occasion where we could hold a conversation (if one could even call it that) which afforded me the opportunity to gaze upon his masculine visage and perceive those calculating green eyes. However, I needed to work extremely hard to keep my emotions in check lest they showed on my face. Like a charged circuit, my frame hummed with unbridled energy whenever he was near me, causing my entire frame to shake as it attempted to find an outlet for the electricity.

Luckily, I had not yet done anything one could consider unprofessional. I willed away my fervent passion in his presence and succeeded to keep myself from jumping into the confines of his arms. One evening, just as I had finished teaching Adele her needlework, I felt we had reached a turning point in our relationship.

"Jane" he began, causing me to jolt up from the table.

Swallowing air, I managed to stutter, "Yes, sir?".

"I feel as if I should thank you, speaking to Adele yesterday, I can tell that her grammar has improved". He did not look up from his book yet the genuine compliment was such a welcome surprise that I did not mind in the slightest.

"Thank you, sir. I do try my best" I replied, trying to maintain a somewhat steady tone while I felt my face growing hot.

He looked up at me, a rare smile beginning to grace his lips, his face bathed in the warm glow of the roaring flames emanating from behind the hearth. My breath caught in my throat at the sight and I felt a surge of love rise up in my chest in a way I had never experienced before.

"Tea?" he motioned towards a pot set on a tray before him, his tone more of a command than a question. I could hardly believe it, a chance to share an evening with my master instead of retiring to my room in a lonely stupor. I smiled gratefully, careful not to appear as eager as I felt as I tentatively crossed to the chaise. Willing my shaking hands to still I cupped to teapot gently and decanted the molten gold liquid into the porcelain vessel. No sooner had I done that, Mr Rochester closed his book and bade me goodnight. He left the library swiftly as though he were walking out of my life. I looked to the door long after it shut and decided I had never felt emptier in my life. Somehow, this stung me more than my tyrannical cousin John's bullying abuse or the unjust cruelty I routinely faced at Lowood. It is a difficult task to feel despondent when you did not care for the abuser but this time, I felt as though my heart had been smashed as I was rejected by the one remaining hope in my world.

Sighing heavily, I willed the scalding liquid welling up behind my eyes to evaporate and tried to prevent my breathing from turning into uncontrollable hyperventilation. All this was for nought, however, as my tears spilt over onto my cheeks and my sobs broke free from their confines to fill the room with sounds of unmistakable despair. I could feel the wave of my emotions begin to drown me and drag me into a whirlpool of sadness. The guilt of my untamable lust, the fear of losing the man I cared for the most and the lack of hope for my future were simply too much for me to bear at that moment and I flung myself into the arm of the chaise and forgot any of my remaining pride as I howled into the fabric, feeling my hot tears soak into the embroidery.

Several minutes later, the worst of it had passed, and I found I had quite given myself a headache. With my vision blurred and my eyes swollen, I reprimanded myself for the childish outburst and decided to make the best of this rare occasion and drink the tea. The rich fumes travelled slowly to my nostrils and served as a sort of momentary remedy from my sadness, bringing me back to the almost forgotten refuge of Miss Temple's room and the rare occasion of happiness at Lowood. I looked into the still liquid and asked myself if I was any happier here.

Raising the cup to my lips I began to drink deeply, it appeared my recent preoccupation had left me rather dehydrated, and I ended up consuming the entire contents of the teapot. Tired and worn out from crying, I closed my eyes and rested my head against the deep pillow of the chaise and without even noticing; I drifted off into a dreamless haze.

The next thing I heard was not the dull roar of the fire but the sounds of what I presumed to be a barn owl, calling to its mate in the inky blackness outside. Too drowsy to fully realise my surroundings yet, I kept my eyes closed and relished the soothing call of the creature for several minutes. Feeling reality slowly spread through my limbs, I became acutely aware of a certain, almost painful pressure around my wrists. I peeled my eyelids open, still stiff from sleep and saw a vision of my master standing above me, his frame imposing, his gaze intense.

"I thought you'd never wake, my dear" he murmured, a slight smirk playing on his lips. "I was beginning to worry if the dosage was superfluous, there's not much to you, after all," he told me, his green eyes dancing with mischievous fire. My mind still addled from slumber, I began to wonder if I had heard him correctly. What dosage did he speak of? More importantly, where was I?

Groaning slightly, I peered out from my half-closed lids and looked up at his imposing frame, moistening my dry lips with my tongue I spoke, "Sir, I don't understand, why am I…" I broke off, not having the strength to complete the sentence. I strained against the bonds that kept my wrists fastened to the bedpost but they did not give way.

"Oh, Jane" he chuckled mockingly, striding over to the bed he had presumably laid me upon, "Did nobody ever teach you to be wary of men's intentions? If you're not careful, someone may try to...take advantage" he pulled the ropes around my wrists ever tighter until I whimpered pitifully.

Panic rose in my chest and my throat tightened, I remembered the fireside, the library, the tea. Oh God, did he spike the beverage with some type of poison? What was going to happen to me? I managed to raise my head and peered around the room. The grand size of the chamber was an apt accompaniment to its fine mahogany furniture and sapphire wallpaper. The fireplace was devoid of any life, its embers had expired hours ago and as a result, there was a deathly chill in the space. I had certainly never been here before and by its opulence and lived-in feel, I could assume that it was my master's own bedchamber. Craning my neck to the left, I could see the moon shining bright and clear, not at all obscured by the heavy blue curtains. Almost immediately I felt a rush of blood to my head, blurring my vision and fogging my brain and I had to rest it on the pillow once more.

Mr Rochester had been observing me silently for these past moments, amusedly watching the confusion of my visage gradually morph into fear. At once he spoke, "Now, Jane, how about we amuse ourselves for a little while, eh"? A sly grin breaking onto his features.

"Sir, please, can you tell me why I am restrained? I find it most undignified," mock irritation trying to mask the fear in my voice.

"You're an intelligent girl, do not play the fool with me," a hint of aggression lacing his calm tone.

Barely daring to believe what I thought he was referring to, I retorted, "I can assure you, I do not know".

He sighed, half annoyed, half entertained, "I think you know exactly why you are here but as you are insistent on starting the games a little earlier than I had planned, I shall clarify it for you. He kneeled next to the bed, his eyes boring into my own, "Of late, I have been finding myself thinking about you more and more. I could be reading the newspaper and my thoughts will travel to you, I could be writing a letter and remember how your eyes light up when you observe Pilot chasing the leaves in the grounds or I could be alone in this very room imagining what delights those garments conceal from the world. Something I have only been able to imagine" His hand gently brushed against my collarbone. "Until now" he finished, a mask of lust covering his face.

This touch told me all I needed to know about his intentions for the night and even though it was only for a fleeting moment, it sent a direct current between my legs and I almost jolted upwards. I did not think I had ever experienced this level of pure terror in my life. It was true, I desperately wanted my master but at the same time, my guilt was making me ill as it was and if I acted on my urges, I feared it would kill me. I told myself I must remain steadfast and not relent to my lust no matter what happened.

"No" I spoke, my voice cracked the frigid air like a bullet through glass.

He rolled his eyes, "I'm afraid you do not appear to have a choice, Jane".

Using all of my little remaining strength I attempted to break free of my bonds, I writhed on top of the sheets, groaning out of sheer effort and felt the rope cutting into my delicate flesh. It did not take long for my fears to be realised; I was not getting out of this one. A desperate mixture of frustration, fear and utter hopelessness reduced me to tears. I sobbed, tears spilling over my cheeks for the second time tonight as I looked up at my master pleadingly.

"Please sir, I am begging you, don't do this to me".

He sighed in annoyance, "Do not make this difficult, Jane," he warned. "Besides", his smile becoming predatory, almost evil, "I have the feeling you will enjoy yourself just as much as I am, perhaps more so" he chuckled darkly, a knowing look in his eyes.

I froze, "How dare you?" I hissed.

"I do not know what kind of fool you take me for, my dear, I really don't. Did it not occur to you that I would notice you gazing at me whenever you had the chance? Oh, you may have tried to hide it, Jane, didn't tell a soul, did you? Why should you have to when your eyes do all the talking?" he laughed.

"Lies" I accused, unable to meet his gaze.

"We shall see about that.''

Continuing to look down at my helpless body, he reached into the breeches of his pocket and unveiled a blade, its metal glinting in the moonlight of the chamber. I screamed but my cries were swiftly muffled by my master's hand clamping over my mouth.

He dropped his voice to a menacing whisper, "Don't you dare", he threatened.

Fearing what any more displeasure would cause him to do, I held my tongue and watched as he used the knife to tear open the front of my nightgown. A gasp escaped me before I could stop it but when I looked up at my master's face, he looked anything but vexed. Still fully dressed, he knelt on the bed, his knees either side of my legs and roughly pulled open the tattered fabric, exposing my entire frame to his hungry eyes and tossing the fabric aside carelessly.

I lay there, completely vulnerable to his wicked gaze, unable to shield myself from him. The way he was staring at my body was making my core hot and a fresh wave of guilt washed over me as I felt myself wanting him to use me until he could take it no longer.

No, Jane, stay resolute.

I turned my head to the side and instead focused on the arboreal pattern on the walls, counting each shape and hoping to quell the deepening ache between my thighs. My efforts were fruitless. I felt as though every nerve in my body was on edge, waiting for stimulation, desperately craving the touch of the man looming above me. The chill of the room brought my skin out in goosebumps and I could almost feel my nipples stiffening as I lay there.

My master put both of his hands around my waist and I jolted from the shock and whipped my head back to look at him fearfully. He slowly caressed my skin with a gentle yet unmistakably firm grip, his thumbs running over my ribcage, his eyes roving over my small frame hungrily. I held my breath as I felt his hands slowly moving upwards, hardly daring to believe he was touching me so brazenly.

"I take it that no man has seen you in this state before, Jane?" he mocked.

My master reached my breasts and cupped the soft mounds gently, barely even touching them and directed his eyes to my own, another smirk forming on his lips. His hands became more rough, groping the white flesh and pinching my nipples with surprising force, all the while peering intently into my eyes in an attempt to notice any desire in my features. I was determined not to show him any and instead winced in genuine pain at his ministrations.

He dropped his head to my breasts and when his mouth made contact I thought I would die. The heat was a stark contrast from the chill of the chamber and the sensation sent a shock wave through my being. My master was no less harsh than before, sucking at the delicate flesh with no concern for the marks he would leave, scraping my hardened nubs with his teeth until I wanted to scream for mercy. All the while I was constantly aware of the increasing heat residing between my thighs and wondered how much longer I would be able to resist.

Mr Rochester changed his path and directed his wicked mouth past my clavicle, which he graced with several brisk, determined kisses, up to my neck. I felt as though I may faint. I could feel the blood pounding in my ears and my entire head was suddenly becoming too heavy, too full. I lost track of my thoughts for a moment as I adjusted to my situation, fully realising that what I had been unable to prevent myself from imagining these past few months was actually taking place.

I despaired internally at the thought of how my neck would appear in a few short moments and imagined the shame I would feel come the morning when the harsh light of day would highlight the deep purple reminders of my sin. I wondered how Mrs Fairfax would react when she saw the marks. Surely the last conclusion she would draw is that the master of the house had caused them.

I felt almost suffocated, never had anybody been so close to me, on my skin, their heat and mine becoming one. I could hear his breathing increasing, becoming more ragged and desperate. I was disheartened to hear my own following suit as my body became hotter and more aware of itself. Every passing second added to the torture, and I wasn't sure how much more I could take before I gave myself away, I bit my lip to hold back the moan that was trying so desperately to escape from the confines of my throat. I could feel it building and building, growing more impatient, until, by some heavenly act of mercy, my master pulled away.

I took cool air into my lungs for the first time in what felt like days and finally felt my head began to clear and the haze of lust started to evaporate. When I became acclimated to my surroundings once more, I noticed my master looking down at me, a sinister grin upon his strong features.

"Calmed ourselves down now, have we?" he whispered, almost as if admonishing an unruly child in the classroom.

Something about his disparaging tone caused my temper to rise but refusing to show any emotion, I stubbornly fixed my gaze at a spot on the ceiling and spoke, trying to eradicate all evidence of both fear and arousal from my voice, "You can let me go now, sir, I wish to go to sleep". I knew that the likelihood of my master releasing me from my bonds was about as high as the split oak in the grounds becoming one again and yet I thought it worth a try. Perhaps he could leave me with a scrap of dignity to my name rather than be forever considered a whimpering, weak and desperate young fool which was the inevitable state that would arrive if he continued with his sinful ministrations.

"Jane, what a wonderful idea, I might just do that," he said, his tone laced with sarcasm. "Or", he continued, pretending to be deep in thought", I could do this, instead".

I was not given a moment to process what he had just said before he afforded me a devious smirk and placed his hands on my inner thighs. My entire frame jolted, and I entered a state of sheer panic, almost forgetting that I was bound to the bed frame as I tried fruitlessly to increase the distance between my master's unrelenting hands and my writhing form.

He laughed mirthlessly, and an edge of danger ran through his tone, suddenly cold, this only caused me to struggle more, a surge of fear raced through my blood.

"Now, Jane, don't struggle, you might hurt yourself" he admonished whilst attempting to part my thighs which I had clamped together as if they were a vice.

I desperately tried to protect the last of my modesty and struggled against but alas, my master's strength far eclipsed mine and tears sprung forth as I realised the last of my efforts were not going to be enough to save myself from Mr Rochester's wicked intentions.

"Please, sir" I choked out, my throat constricting from panic and desperation, "Stop, you still can, I shan't tell anybody.''

For the first time, I saw a gentleness on my master's face that scarcely graced his usually gloomy features and he reached out his hand towards me. I screwed my eyes tightly together awaiting the slap that never came. I squinted out from behind half-closed eyes to see him gently cupping my cheek with a tenderness that was starkly different from the previous moments of violent struggle.

"Trust me" he whispered, while our shared gaze conveyed a silent conversation.

I stared up at the ceiling once more and traced the elaborate patterns with my eyes in an attempt to distract myself from the situation that was about to unfold. Scalding tears fell from my eyes and marred my flushed cheeks with gleaming tracks of hopelessness; I did not prevent them from doing so; I had gone past the point of caring. I only thought of the shame I would feel come the morning as my master's hands caressed the white flesh of my inner thighs before parting them to expose my most private area to his libidinous inspection. To my chagrin and deep mortification, I once again felt the familiar burning heat spreading through my nether regions and steaming my womanhood. Had I only just noticed this recurrence? How long had my body been preparing itself for what was to come? The more I thought of this, the more my heart ached for the loss of that chaste, moral woman that once resided within me.

I heard my master draw breath and become silent for a while. Fearing the worst, I quickly looked between my legs and stole a glance at his face where I was greeted with an expression of both wonder and unadulterated desire- He seemed as though he were not entirely sure what he would do next. I did not have to wait long for him to find out as he gently traced an index finger along the cleft of my sex causing me to yelp in a highly undignified manner and for one moment I thought as though I had been electrocuted. It was as though this touch served as a conducting rod to all the blood in my legs to flow towards my core, heating it further still, until I could no longer ignore the desperate throbbing and once again feared what the sinful sensation would lead me to say or do.

I held my breath and shut my eyes as Mr Rochester, with a feather-like touch, traced his finger across my most intimate folds, I desperately willed him to increase the pressure as my very nerve endings were screaming out in frustration. The increasing nectar pooling near my entrance was beginning to coat the tip of his digit. Upon realisation of this development, he let out a chuckle, almost to himself.

"Perhaps you are enjoying this a little more than you are letting on, my dear," he mocked, fully aware of the burning shame I was experiencing.

"Never" I lied with one great, shuddering breath.

He rolled his eyes slightly and presented his digits for my inspection. I cringed as the moonlight of the chamber caught the nectar coating his fingers causing them to glint and I could not ignore the familiar scent of my own torment, musky and almost suffocatingly sweet.

Ignoring my previous remark, he continued, "Maybe, then, you would be quite partial to this" he teased as he dropped his head between my thighs. I screamed. His hot, wet mouth made contact with my already burning flesh and gave me a sensation as though I were drowning; I simply could not draw air into my lungs, in fact, for several seconds, I could do nothing more than give up any bodily autonomy to the pleasure my master was affording me.

His enthusiasm was akin to that of a parched explorer being offered water for the first time in days; he was relentless in his treatment of my soaking petals, teasing the swollen flesh with his unforgiving tongue and gently sucking until a desperate moan escaped without my initial realisation. I could hear my master's muffled laughter from between my thighs, feeling the thrilling vibrations against my overheated core and I whimpered again, pitifully, dismally. The hatred I felt towards myself was painful, I wished for the merciful wings of death to carry me away from this torment and save me any further humiliation.

I could feel myself building to a rapid peak, my desire reaching boiling point almost as quickly as my panic levels. As he continued to swirl his tongue around my most sensitive spot my heart dropped as I realised my internal muscles were contracting around something that wasn't there and I couldn't prevent the barrage of hopeless whimpers from escaping and poisoning the air with their sinful sounds.

"Sir, I began" hysterically, struggling to formulate the words in my head, "no, please, you have to stop right now".

He continued with even more force, acting as though I had not just spoken.

"Please, right now, you don't understand" I babbled almost incoherently. I could sense I was moments away from a highly humiliating climax, surely this would seal my fate and render me a whore in his eyes henceforth if I allowed myself to be utterly at the mercy of the pleasure he was giving me, body and soul.

Finally, he ceased. A moment of relief flooded through my veins but evaporated almost as quickly as it had arrived. I was left in a position just as miserable as before, my limbs refusing to stay still instead made little spasmodic movements while my core ached unbearably. Never before had I ever felt such desire, my body was swiftly overriding the remaining common sense I once valued so highly within myself. I felt as though I might die if my master did not continue, leaving me in this state would surely drive me to go mad. With disgust, I knew my tortured body would only return to any state which resembled normal if he finished what he had started. I looked up at him pleadingly, foolishly daring to believe a glance would be enough for his pride. He looked down grinning and I realised he had me right where he wanted me; trapped like a mouse under the watchful eyes of a cat. I told myself that I had given up enough of my dignity tonight for anything after this point to be considered particularly important so I took a deep breath, willed the Lord to forgive me and began to beg.

"Sir, please can you…" I trailed off as I felt my cheeks burn with humiliation and my throat constrict.

"What's that, Jane?" he feigned confusion, his face a mask of mock befuddlement and barely suppressed mirth.

I swallowed, watching intently as my master began to unbutton his usually pristine, now creased, shirt exposing his slim yet toned abdomen and the smattering of black hair that graced it. I could feel the haze descend further into my mind and I could only think of one thing, words failed me.

"You know!" I suddenly spat, full of momentary rage.

Why was he torturing me like this? Did he hate me? It seemed to give him pleasure to see me in distress as evidenced by the tent in his breeches which I could not resist gawping at, my eyes trying to asses the size of what threatened to burst out, straining against the fabric.

He saw my interest and looked me in the eyes, "Oh, of course, I do, what do you take me for?" he chuckled. "I just want to see little innocent Jane say it".

He started to unbuckle his belt, and I felt my mouth become instantly drier than the Sahara, my breaths became even shallower and I felt my mind start to leave me as he exposed his turgid member to me, the swollen head glinting in the silvery light.

"Oh" I managed to breathe out. Full of almost childlike wonder, I desired to touch it, I couldn't imagine what it would feel like and yet I desperately wanted it inside of me.

"Please, sir, I want you" I whispered, not being able to look in his eyes for the shame I felt.

"Are you sure, Jane, because it doesn't sound to me as though…"

My annoyance reaching its peak, I screamed out "Sir, just take me!" before a hand was clamped over my mouth.

"See, that wasn't so difficult was it?" he muttered, almost flinging my legs asunder and positioned the throbbing head of his member at my saturated entrance. I waited with bated breath, my legs almost vibrating from the anticipation. Finally, after what seemed like an aeon, he pushed himself into my dripping channel, groaning as he did so. The pain was sharp and quick, pleasure overriding it almost immediately leaving only mild discomfort. His thrusts were still shallow and gentle and I thanked him for his concern yet I wanted more.

I looked up at his eyes whilst breathing rapidly, silently encouraging him to increase his pace. "More already?" he whispered with a hint of surprise.

"Yes," I managed to hiss out, my pleasure building.

He flung my legs behind his neck and thrust deeper, regaining his rhythm and I moaned softly, this time almost forgetting the shame, giving myself up completely to my master. His deep groans only served to make me more aroused and I felt as though the world outside this room had ceased to exist, the only thing that mattered was this joyous yet sinful union.

I began to buck my hips up towards his, drawing his member deeper still into my quivering core. My master looked down at mingled shock and delight as my brazen desire became apparent to him. Whilst maintaining his deep thrusts, he teased the swollen nub that lay above my entrance with his finger using gentle pressure and I could feel my long-awaited climax rushing towards me once more and I emitted increasingly desperate whimpers until the lightning finally surged through my body. I nearly screamed out, feeling myself contract around my master's member and then, it was over.

I felt utterly spent as I lay there filled with a delirious sense of satisfaction. I thought of nothing at all partly because I quite simply could not formulate the words in my head but also because for the first time in my life I felt content. I somehow did not care about tomorrow, I knew I had my master to accompany me through the night. He continued to thrust into me almost forcefully and looking up at his face I could see that he had lost himself in the sensations and I felt that same surge of love I had several hours ago at the fireside. Shortly after, he reached his peak and gripping my hips tightly, his fingernails digging into the flesh, he barely managed to pull out of me before spilling his seed upon my stomach. He looked down at the mess he had created almost guiltily but once he met my look of adoration, he gave me a genuine smile and planted a kiss on my shining forehead before collapsing next to me with a great shudder.

Several moments later, once I had started to think clearly once more, I remembered I was bound and looked up to see angry red marks upon my wrists underneath the ropes. "Sir, will you please untie me," I asked.

He looked over and smirked, "You know, my dear, I don't think I'll do that just yet".


End file.
